


go white boy go

by sirjotahan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathroom Sex, Bathtub Sex, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bloodplay, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Drowning, Erotic Electrostimulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Gore, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Injury, Knifeplay, M/M, Male Solo, Masochism, Masturbation, No Beta, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Canonical Character Death, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Violence, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Original Character(s), Other, Pain, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sadism, Self-Harm, Serious Injuries, Sexual Content, Sexual Violence, Shameless Smut, Smut, Water, Water Sex, erotic gore, eru guro, gore porn, lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirjotahan/pseuds/sirjotahan
Summary: a collection of fics about my favourite nasty oc, clive, starring dr dietrich, made by my friend.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 7





	1. To Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> yo! i'm anarchy!! you can contact me @ anarchy#3052 on discord!!

Slowly, slowly, slowly, the blade dragged across his skin. There was a harsh stinging sensation as layers of skin split. With an inward hiss, Clive drew his shaky hand back close to his chest. The blade shook in his trembling hands, near to falling, risking another limb. He turned his gaze down to the destruction he’d wrecked on his own arm. Crimson welted. The bubbles quickly grew. Soon the bubble slipped, dripping down his arm in rivers of red. 

The skin gradually drifted apart, a clean cut revealing the deeper layers of his body. He watched as the wound appeared to worsen by the second. The burn of agony seeped into his bloodstream, carrying a feeling of almost pleasure to his head. Tears glossed over his eyes as his mind fogged. An unsteady sigh tumbled from his lips. The way his head slumped back against the wall behind him, mouth gaping, was nearly obscene. 

Clive brought himself to bring his eyes down to his arm. The flow of blood became heavier and heavier, coursing from the wound to puddle below him, where he’d set a cover of towels. The towel had once been an off-white, now stained an ugly maroon. There was no worry about stains, they littered his things and had done for as long as he had known. Neither was there a worry for his arm. Closing his eyes, he could see his saviour just across the room. A shuddering moan left his lips. The way he would glance down at him as he sat on the hospital bed. The way he handled the needle with such care as he threaded it through his skin. The razor slipped from his fingers, grazing his thigh with minor damage. His hands wandered to the wound, tracing the outline. Blood smeared on his fingertips, imitating the gentle and precise touch of Dr Dietrich. An indecent moan escaped his lips.

Heat pooled in his groin, arousal overtaking his mind. His hands lost the facade of the doctor’s. Rather than teasing the wound, they moved down, sneaking past the waistband of his boxers. Beneath the cloth, he had already gotten hard. Against his hands, he was already thrusting, rubbing against his fingers. There was a wetness against his shaft - lukewarm, sticky, sliding along his skin with a texture comparable to syrup, and staining his underwear red. Short cusses accompanied groans with each slight thrust. 

If he closed his eyes and envisioned it hard enough, he could imagine it was the doctor’s grip. The doctor stroking him with that slow, gentle touch he used to fix his ailments. It was teasing and all too pleasuring. The build-up was fast. Simply thinking about the way his own blood streaked his cock had turned him on far too much. His hand quickened its pace. Clive could no longer stick to the leisurely speed he presumed the doctor would take on. Instead, he let the speed of his strokes increase, matching the build-up of his climax. Before he knew it, his hips were stuttering, his vision blurred, his breath caught in his throat, and he came.

When finally his breath caught up to him, Clive pulled his hand back. The blood caked on his fingers had half dried, and what hadn’t was mixing with cum. The hybrid of the two liquids was sticky and thick, streaked with almost translucent white and opaque ruby. The mixture coated his fingers, temptation bringing the digits closer to his parted lips until he was swirling his tongue around them. The metallic, salty taste filled his mouth. As unpleasant as it was, he found himself groaning around his own fingers, pushing them down his throat until he felt a gag threatening. Aware of his own limits, he pulled his hand back before bile rose up to his neck. 

The euphoria was intense and powerful, yet quick to dissipate. Soon, he was left with the dampness in his pants and the throbbing in his arm. The heat radiated, shooting up his nerves, and forcing a shake into his fingers. Arm twitching, he pushed himself to his knees, then to his feet. The towel, soaked in blood, transferred smudged red to his legs. Rather than wiping himself clean, Clive simply pulled on sweatpants over unclean underwear and skin. From then, he was wrapping his arm in dishevelled bandages to hurry to A&E where his angel awaits. 


	2. H²O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bath time baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo! i'm anarchy!! you can contact me @ anarchy#3052 on discord!!

Bubbles filled his ears, muffling the sound of his own gargling. There was a faint noise circling his head. The doctor's voice. It was sounded far off, words unintelligible as if they were being spoken from a different room. Gradually they faded more and more, the speed matching his urgency to breathe. Thrashing against the hand threaded into his hair, Clive fought to rise to the surface. The need was made clear and the hand loosened its grip. He was quick to throw his head back, water splattering the tiled walls of the bathroom. Gasping for air, he clutched onto the side of the bathtub, nails bending and knuckles paling with the force. He spluttered, choking on the water that infiltrated his lungs.

“Mh, _good boy_ , you’re doing _so_ well,” purred Heiden from behind him, hips still hammering a steady rhythm. The words slipped in and out of Clive’s mind, all he could do was groan pathetically in response. That, though, seemingly wasn’t enough for the man grasping his waist and his head. The fingers entangled in his hair moved to his face, holding him by his chin, and forced his head back to face his lover as much as possible.

“What do you say?” The thickest German accent demanded a show of gratefulness for the praise. As sweet as the voice was, there was something dangerous beneath that tenderness and Clive knew it first hand.

“Tha-ha-nk you, Dr.”

The grasp dropped from his face to his neck, holding him now by his neck.  
  
 _“Gern geschehen, mein Bärchen.”_  
  
The smile was loud in his voice, prompting a rush of joy deep within the blond. The only course of action from there, in his mind, was to push back against the hips thrusting into him. His bony ass pressed against Heiden’s pelvis, forcing his cock further up inside him. The movement seemed to squeeze a high-pitched moan from his vocal cords.

Both men felt flush with fever at the feeling. Pleasure washed over them in one heavy wave. Clive’s handle on the edge of the tub weakened and his torso pressed against the cold acrylic. Meanwhile, Heiden hurried his pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing against bathroom walls. It took little time for the noise to become wetter and wetter. Slickness trickled down Clive’s thighs, transferring to the doctor’s own with each thrust.

Their respective build-ups came on fast and strong. With Clive’s circling hips and Heiden’s relentless drives, a climax was in sight. A variety of grunts and comments sounded off behind the shorter man. As ecstasy washed over the doctor, the line between English and German blurred. The last words Clive could make out were, “Ah, ah, guter Junge! Yes, yes-” before he was once again submerged.

All other noise was overwhelmed by the splashing of water flooding his senses. The rush of liquid around him was noisy and painful. He had had no time to prepare. The crisp, almost bitter taste of tap water filled his mouth and raced down his throat to trickle into his lungs. Small waves pushed their way up his nostrils, flowing down all the wrong pipes, sending an unwelcome burning sensation into his sinuses. A stinging in both eyes told him that he hadn’t closed them in time and, no matter how he squeezed them shut, the pain didn’t subside. It all added up, leaving his head full and hazy with feeling. Choking and spluttering, adrenaline worked its way into his veins. Arousal grew at the uncontrollable surge of pain. Untouched, his cock began to leak. This did not go unnoticed as shown by the pressing of fingertips into his sides, sure to bruise, and the tugging of hair that left his scalp sore.

There was a short moment of relief as his head was pulled from the water by his hair. Some strands snapped under the force. A soundless cry came from his throat as he coughed out what water he could. He managed just a handful of gasps for air before he was once again submerged underwater.

It had all happened so fast. Heiden’s cock slipped out of him, eliciting a croaky moan from the poor man, then he was hoisted up like a ragdoll. Water splashed up and out of the tub, flooding the floor around them, as he was dumped into the water unceremoniously. Clive’s back collided with the bottom of the tub, knocking the sliver of air in his lungs straight out of him. His head knocked against the acrylic, sending the echo of a thud to reverberate around him. A hand closed around his throat and another lifted his waist up, propping his ass onto the doctor’s hips.

Heiden set himself between Clive’s thighs, squeezing them both into the small bath. It was uncomfortable to all hell, but he didn’t seem to care. No time was wasted, Heiden lifted his hand from the other’s neck, giving him a second to breathe, as he gripped his dick. He gave himself a few strokes before hurriedly pushing himself into Clive. Bottoming out, his hand returned to the shorter man’s neck, who had been fighting for air and holding his head as far above water as possible.

Bubbles rose to the surface of the water with each moan Clive gave. His body sent out signals to every part of his body, yet he continued to revel in the feeling. Terror shot out through his limbs, urging him to struggle. He didn’t though. He let Heiden have his way with him, and he did. He thrusted with enough force to leave bruises - bruises among many others that littered the pale body he handled with little care. They were already blooming, bright and clear beneath the water. The sight of the pure state the man was in was enough to throw him over the edge.

With a cry of pleasure, he buried himself deep into Clive’s clenching hole. Hot blood hummed through his veins, lighting his core on fire. Heiden was certain the water was bubbling with the heat of his skin. His toes curled as all his muscles tensed. Just then, he released. The pleasure that rocked his body washed over him softly now, cradling him gently. His vision blurred, everything turning stark white for a split second. Ropes of cum surging from his cock and into Clive, who rejoiced in the feeling. His grip loosened and he slumped back, leaning against the side of the tub while his erection softened.

Clive sat up, hacking and spitting out water. Despite the struggle, there was a subtle obscenity in his groans. If it wasn’t clear, a cloudy streak of white told the story well enough. Eventually, he pulled out, letting his own semen seep into the bathwater while Clive’s breathy moans filled the air.

The water chilled, becoming lukewarm at best. It wasn’t pleasant. It was filthy with their bodily fluids, yet the two of them huddled close together sat in it until the water was uncomfortably cold. Heiden was first to comment on it, suggesting they move their cuddling to the bed. Clive agreed happily, though was unsure how long they’d be _just_ cuddling for.


	3. Symphony

It was surprising how easy the knife slid in. Eventually, he eased up, lessening the pressure he applied. Then, he let go. The blade stuck in his leg, clogging the hole and forcing the blood to pile up. Some beaded at the edges, pushing their way out, and it made the scene even prettier. The struggle of his own body to get to healing a wound he had brought upon himself. It made him smile. Clive debated taking it out, letting wet run down his thigh and form a puddle around him. A lake of crimson that stained the carpet and painted his clothes. Though, he decided to keep it in just a little longer. He gripped the handle, hands shaking more than he cared to note, and twisted. The movement was quick, stretching the hole wider and scraping against skin and muscle. In the silence, he swore he could hear fat bubbles pushing against each other; strings of muscle and tissue snapping; skin tearing; and blood rushing. It was a symphony, a harmony of pain. The outer layers reddened and bruised slightly. His nerves were in an insane panic, forcing his hand to clutch the meat of his leg. The pain radiated, leaving his right leg completely immobile. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to so much as wiggle his toes. The pain was overwhelming, excruciating, and hot, burning up his spine.


	4. Livestream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clive has some new fans.

No longer could he resist. Cuffs were not needed, a belt tethering ankles to the cold metal table was enough. As much as he struggled, Clive was powerless. Powerless to phantom itches, and to him.  **He** loved it.   
  


Clanking, clinking, scraping, scratching echoed. The noises bounced off the walls, attempting desperately to escape the basement and find someone’s ears, to no avail. They simply taunted their maker and sung to their audience.  **His** audience.   
  


This was not part of the agreement, but none of it had been. Heiden never specified just what was to be included, Clive simply assumed. There was no contract. There were no rules. Heiden didn’t _have_ to ask if Clive was okay, so he didn’t this time. He just set up the camera and started recording. Heiden didn’t _have_ to keep this private, so he didn’t this time. He just set the stream to public and let the people roll in.  
  


After one last check-up, making sure the camera captured the entire scene and its audio, Heiden stepped into the frame and turned to Clive, “Ready?”   
  


“No! No, Heiden- Heiden, please!” the blond begged, frantically waving freshly healed stumps in a pathetic plea. His pleading was returned with a laugh and soon after, the scratching of a blade against blade. The telltale sound of sharpening that Clive had become accustomed to. The sound that preceded something he craved, unlike now.   
  


“I’ll take that as a yes,” Heiden hummed, placing down the sharpening blade clumsily and with a clang. On his way to approach Clive, he checked the laptop connected to the camera. Millions of messages flooded in by the minute, a majority scarily positive, encouraging and inspiring him.

  
  


> **@HolyCruel: Hurry UP**
> 
> **@Like.Mike: give him what he deserves**
> 
> **@belray: GIVE HIM MORE STUMPS**
> 
> **@edward_wright_66: I love to watch him struggle.**
> 
> **@richardout: this is taking too long**
> 
> **@FuzzySparkle: hes sooo cute~**
> 
> **@footman87: Send me his toes my number is XXX-XXX-XXX**

  
  


With preciseness honed through years of studying, Heiden plunged the knife into Clive’s ankle, throwing them into the live-stream with a quick start. A hitched breath muted the scream both the doctor and his audience craved.   
  


“C’mon, Bärchen, let us hear you,” Heiden’s voice was sweet as if his commands were simply kind suggestions. Suggestions that you could say no to - and Clive did. Shaking his head feverishly, he beat his biceps against the table in refusal, all while keeping his lips tightly shut. Wrong answer it seemed. With a quick twist of his wrist, Heiden turned the knife. A gross squelching and scraping came of the action prompting a shuddering whine from Clive.   
  


“That’s better.”   
  


The knife was pulled unceremoniously from his flesh, spraying blood on pale skin, forced a shout to erupt from him. Audio peaked as the screech reached the microphone, tempting viewers to lower their volumes; apart from those with a devout following to other’s pain, as well as those without free hands.  
  


The blood on the blade dripped into messy puddles that bid goodbye to the cleanliness of the studio beforehand. The growing disorder provoked something deep within Heiden that many could spot below his waistline.   
  


Ungloved fingers traced the wound, blood seeped under untrimmed nails, dirting Heiden’s hands. That was clearly of no importance to the doctor as, moments following, he plunged his digits into the gash. They wiggled as though searching. Each individual finger on its own mission to find its target. Whimpers turned to cries once it was found.   
  


“ _STOP!_ ” Clive rasped, vocal cords straining against the pain, “Stop, please- _PLEASE!_ ”   
  


His perpetrator was undeterred by his pleas and his newfound fans savoured each new octave he reached. As well as that, they were not quiet about it. The doctor was more than aware of this and skimmed the chatbox for their lovely suggestion until one caught his eye.

> **@INTORA: Listen to him scream**
> 
> **@LillyBety: how much to rent him!!**
> 
> **@ulnaryota: PULL IT OUT**
> 
> **@redthumb: youre work is sloppy**

The fingers that wormed around in flesh suddenly tightened around bone. Layers of muscle, fat, skin pushed out of the way to make way for a fist. With a strength unbeknownst to many, Heiden yanked. The force was not enough to break bone but more than enough to displace it. The joint cracked, the tibia dislodged. The outside skin stretched to accommodate the change, creating the ugly image of distortion. The camera captured a reality many only saw through the magic of special effects and, unlike the masses would predict, its watchers rejoiced.    


>   
>  **@sourz0mbie: !!!!!!  
>   
>  @BRADjay: send it to me?  
>   
> @Jos3phL: how much**
> 
> **@stevejohnson8: how much to spend some time w this lil twink  
>   
>  @89honda: AUCTION IT**

Eyes trained on the screen, a sinister smirk found its way onto Heiden’s face. He could provide entertainment by doing what he loved and  _ get  _ paid for it? Now that was an offer he couldn’t resist.   
  


With one hand holding the bone, the other reached to the table of tools. His fingers hovered over cheese wire and a hacksaw before ultimately deciding on the latter.   
  


“One of you lucky viewers will receive the tibia of my Schatz’, ein sehr glücklicher Betrachter in der Tat.”  
  


Slowly, the saw lowered, closer and closer to the bone. Adrenaline thrummed through Clive’s veins, keeping him awake and staring at the ever inching blade. Through the laceration, his muscles could be seen tightening, relaxing, then tightening again with each panicked gasp. For so long he could not tear his eyes away, they had been locked on the gore, giving him a sight frightful enough to scare away the threat of passing out. As the serrated edge reached blood coated bone though, his eyes shut tight, unable to bear the spectacle of carnage on his anatomy. Darkness enveloped him, leaving the rest of his senses to handle the situation. 

  
The hacksaw dragged back and forth, tearing offshoot muscles that intruded in its path. It drove in deeper and deeper, severing nerves. With each wiry nerve that it cleaved, Clive let out a sharp holler accompanied by a shudder. There was no energy in him to refuse, he could not kick. Each exhale that left his lips carried ardour, leaving him still and lifeless. His hyperventilating forced his consciousness to fade faster than he desired. It faded, faded, faded, faded faded faded faded until it was gone. His body comatose allowed Heiden was free to do all he wished with it. A toy for him. A toy for  **him** and  **his** audience. 


End file.
